


Mnemosyne and Lethe

by SpicyChestnut



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Reunion, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post-Calamity, Remembrance, Romance, Trauma, fluff at the end, zelink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyChestnut/pseuds/SpicyChestnut
Summary: A story about what it means to remember, what it is to forget, and what it takes to find peace amid change.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 197





	1. Familiar and Strange

**Author's Note:**

> **Mnemosyne:** (pronounced nim-oh-sin-ee) The Greek goddess of memory. She presides over a pool in the Underworld of Hades, counterpart to the river Lethe.
> 
> **Lethe:** (pronounced 'leeth-ee') In Greek Mythology, it is one of the five rivers of the underworld of Hades. Also known as the _Ameles potamos_ (river of unmindfulness), all those who drank from it experienced complete forgetfulness, so that they could forget their earthly life and be reborn anew. Lethe was also the name of the Greek spirit of forgetfulness and oblivion, with whom the river was often identified.

* * *

**Remembrance is a fickle master—**   
**For memories of love are shadowed by disaster;**   
**Your parting—my aching sorrow,**   
**Only tender dreams of a tomorrow.**

**I cannot tell gift from curse;**   
**To remember the past must be worse**   
**Than to look upon Hyrule anew—**   
**But perhaps, that is foolish too.**

* * *

“Do you remember me?”

Her gentle question echoed across the vast plain of hyrule field—across to him.

Zelda held her breath, hands clasped tightly before her. Her body trembled with the force of her tension and her muscles ached with the effort of keeping her trembling body still. She had done all she could to prepare herself to be greeted by blue eyes vacant any recognition, even if a stubborn part of her heart prayed otherwise. During her century-long battle she had contemplated the totality of what she had robbed him of: an entire life, a childhood, the memory of his late mother and decorated father, his trouble-making younger sister…

Although… she supposed they were _all_ “late” family members now.

His entire life had been wiped from his mind. There was no guarantee he would remember anything, despite the breadcrumbs she left behind. She’d hoped, as she observed him revisiting the locations she’d left him pictures of, that the jerk of his shoulders and rigid posture as he gazed out over those landscapes might be an indication that he recalled some small fragments of memory.

Oh, how she had _hoped_.

But now the moment was finally here—a reunion a century in the making. Despite her hopes this was no longer some fantasy in her mind to keep her occupied during the long, dark days; he was here, he was real… and he may not remember.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to hers, blue so vibrant in the sunlight. Her heart skipped a beat as she held his gaze. His eyes were not absent recognition, but neither were they filled with it either. What could this mean?

She waited, tremulous, barely holding on to her small smile as he stumbled forward, gaze locked on her. Then, quite suddenly, he fell to one knee, his body lapsing into long-forgotten muscle memory as he rigidly formed the bow of the royal guard. His voice carried clearly across the distance between them, hoarse and weary but firm.

“Zelda.”

 _Zelda_ … Despite herself she felt her eyes prickle with moisture. Zelda… Not Princess, not your Highness, _Zelda_ … The only time he had called her by her given name had been that night, a century ago in Blatchery plain, when he…

Her vision began to blur as tears filled her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. 

She had so many _questions_. He stood before her in the rigid formality of a forgotten kingdom, and yet… he had called her _Zelda_. Did he remember _her_ —their friendship and the long lovely days they spent traveling Hyrule together? Did he remember the terrible jokes she would tell him, or the way he would climb even the tallest apple tree to pick her the ripest fruit? Or did he merely know _who_ she was? A century was a long time for a kingdom to be without its monarchy—perhaps his use of her given name was merely a byproduct of awakening in such a provincial age…

As the silence between them stretched, growing thicker, he lifted his head—and his blue eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, a twinkle of merriment shining from the depths of his gaze. She was immediately transported back a hundred years, to that afternoon in Hyrule Field when she’d tried to feed him a frog—to that leisurely ride through the Baobab trees where she’d tried her hand at puns and he’d struggled to hold in his laughter.

Oh _Goddess_ , she had missed him!

Without giving the action a second thought she ran, crossing the scant distance between them before tumbling to her knees and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Link…” she choked, squeezing him tightly, heart thumping painfully in her chest. He remained still for several moments, half-risen from his bow; and just as her self-consciousness was catching up to her, about to pull away—to compose herself and apologize for her impropriety, his arms raised. It was tentative, cautious, before wrapping gently around her back and pulling her into him.

“Zelda…”

She felt a broad smile tug at her lips. She supposed it didn’t matter what he did and did not remember—he was _alive_ , he was _here_ , and they were _free_. They could figure the rest out as they went along.

-:-:-:-:-

“I can scarcely believe it! Is he truly?” she gushed, eyes wide with wonder and delight as Link handed her the reins to a snow-white steed outfitted in her now century old royal saddle and bridle. She took the proffered steed by the reins, reaching a tentative hand towards the horse’s muzzle.

After a brief shared nap in the shade of a nearby grove, Link had let loose a mighty whistle—and from across the field two saddled horses came running—one white, and one brown. When the white stallion’s golden bridle glinted in the sunlight reflecting the Hyrule royal crest, she had started in alarm— briefly questioning what era it was and whether their defeat of Ganon had been merely a fevered dream.

The great-grandson of her faithful steed! The very same finicky, stubborn horse Link had taught her to soothe; and he not only found it, but tamed it as well—just for her! Oh, how he looked _just_ like Flint…

A breeze whistled over Hyrule field as he smiled at her, hair tussling as he mounted his own brown mare. She felt her lip quiver—words were lost to her—and so instead she followed suit, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“Thank you, Link. I am touched; truly, I don’t know what to say.”

He turned to her, eyes bright as he observed her sitting atop the familiar saddle. “You’re welcome, Zelda.”

_Zelda_ … she felt her smile brighten just a tad. Hearing him speak her name aloud, and with such comfortable casualness—It stirred a feeling she dared not name.

Link turned, directing his horse towards the southeastern road and gesturing for her to follow. She turned and followed suit, directing her new steed—aptly named Flint the Fourth, towards the road.

“You mentioned a place to stay for the night—is that where we are off to next?” she queried, momentarily reveling in the long-forgotten feeling of a gusty breeze whipping at her face, high atop the saddle of a horse.

“Yes—Riverside stable. Before we make any further plans, you need to rest.”

She laughed softly. “So do you. I did watch your battle, you know. How is your arm, by the way?”

He rotated his shoulder, pausing to consider. “…Not bad.”

She was about to reply with a jest—enjoying their easy return to friendly banter, when she noticed a familiar trail turning off the main road, right where… She felt her stomach tighten.

“Wait—Link…”

He pulled on his reins, coming to a stop before angling towards her with mild concern—but her eyes were directed at the cluster of trees which was all that remained of the once-proud Lon Lon ranch. She turned to him and found him watching her closely. She felt her gut anxiously twist, but voiced the question all the same.

“I—I just wondered… Would you mind if we took a brief detour?”

He eyed her a moment longer before shaking his head. “No… of course not.”

Without further conversation she turned right and headed down the overgrown path, Link following close behind.

Lon Lon Ranch… she had so many memories there; they both did. Almost every time they traveled through Hyrule field together they would stop at the ranch for two containers of fresh milk for the road. And Link… he had been childhood friends with the rancher’s daughter, Malon. Did he even remember?  
  
As the small grove of trees opened into what had once been the ranch proper, Zelda slowed, then stopped, her heart sinking to her feet. There was almost nothing left—a few scraps of wood and a stone wall. Everything else was… gone.

For several long moments she simply stared out at the now-empty expanse, struggling to reign in her tears. She silently chastised herself. She shouldn’t be so surprised—what else could she possibly have expected? If the Calamity hadn’t done it, a century untended surely would.

But, deep down she knew—she _knew_ —a century untended hadn’t been what had done this; _she_ had done this. If she had unlocked her powers sooner… if only she had _realized_ …

“Do you… remember Lon Lon Ranch, Link?”

Another gust blew over the ranch ruins, stirring the tall grasses which now grew within what had once been the main corral. He was quick to reply, answering kindly but frankly.

“No. Most of what I remember has to do with… well, you.”

Zelda choked back a sudden sob, grateful Link was behind her and unable to see. Closing her eyes she took a deep, rattling breath to quell the sudden tide of emotion which rose at his words. She had been so focused on whether he would remember _her_ —but hadn’t given more than a second’s thought to all that he might not.

This was the price of her failure. Her kingdom fallen to ruin over the course of a century, and she had deprived the man she—well, a man she cared deeply for, of some of his most precious memories.

She was so horribly, cruelly selfish.

Releasing her breath, she opened her eyes and forced herself calm. The very least she could do was not burden him further with her petty, foolish feelings after all he had done and sacrificed in _her name_. With a jerk of the reins she turned her horse around, smoothing her expression, making once more for the road.

“Well… let’s continue on then.”

She hoped he didn’t notice the catch in her voice.

-:-:-:-:-

Zelda stared with a furrowed brow at the giant horse head rising high above the stable. It was… quite strange looking, but she couldn’t deny the relief she felt at seeing an indicator of civilization as they rounded Whistling hill. The aches of her body were making themselves known to her—as was her weakness from lack of food; she was absolutely ready to sit on a soft patch of grass and eat Link’s incredible cooking. Her stomach agreed—it had been altogether too long.

But as they neared the stable, raucous laughter and joyful shouts echoed from within the strange yurt, creating an odd harmony with the rhythmic thumping of their horses hooves against the hard-packed dirt of the road. As they came into view, the small group of people dancing and hugging in the middle of the road came to a sudden standstill—and all eyes turned to them. Zelda felt her nerves rattling—she was so weary and worn, she wasn’t ready to introduce herself…

But it seemed she needn’t have worried.

“Link?!” one of the men shouted incredulously—a rotund, portly man in a blue vest. He dropped the person he was hugging, a reedy man who fell to the ground in a graceless tumble.

“I knew it was you! You’re the only man I know of who’s ever come back from the castle alive! Goddess, man—we’re free!” He laughed, spinning in a circle with his arms in the air. “All of Hyrule—we’re free!” he slowed and turned to face the pair of them, an infectious grin on his face as his companion rose to stand beside him, gazing in awed reverence at her knight. “How on earth did you do it?”

Link sat impassively atop his horse a moment, eying the man. Quickly and subtly, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She caught his gaze, unable to hide her anxious, wide-eyed stare. He turned back to the men smiling serenely and spurring his horse forward.

“A long story for another time.”

She couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

-:-:-:-

Their arrival, according to the man dancing in the street whose name she later learned to be Gotter, merited a celebration. At their questioning, Link introduced her as “a friend”—a title which she, despite knowing it to be silly, felt wholly warmed by. A century prior such a familiar endearment, innocent though it was, would have raised eyebrows and summoned frowns from across the court.

As the stable’s occupants set about cooking and decorating and pulling out instruments, the two of them cleaned up from their battle, washing the dirt and blood away with a damp cloth and basin of water. Link provided her a spare change of clothes—a pair of slightly overlarge trousers with a green tunic; though she kept her sandals for lack of any other available footwear. Sheepishly, Link had promised to purchase her more appropriate attire of her own once they reached one of the larger settlements. She smiled, perfectly content with what he’d given her but endeared by his thoughtfulness nonetheless.

By sunset the party was in full swing. Ember—the stable master, played the fiddle while a couple passing travelers, Parcy and Spoone, danced around the bonfire. At the cook pot Gotter worked on a special meal to share—and the food he prepared, dare she say it, rivaled Link’s own. Now that her century of biological stasis was over, her body was beginning to suck down caloric energy like a dying man in the desert would water. She ate ravenously, and as she did so Link watched her out of the corner of his eye, the smallest of smiles tugging at his lips.

Though part of her wished to join the dancing and revelry (after all she had possibly the most to celebrate), she felt weary and uncertain—so she remained perched upon her stool, instead finding joy admiring the flickering firelight in the dusky eveneing and the sound of Parcy’s joyful music. Link remained by her side, despite several invitations from Parcy to dance (and to trade his spare blade for a chunk of Sapphire, oddly enough). But as the evening lengthened and the dancers grew tired, everyone settled around the fire and began to share tall tales and wonder about what happened to the once great monarchs of Hyrule.

“I heard once on my travels that the Hyrules angered a demon; and in his rage, he slaughtered their family and took possession of the castle. It seems likely enough, but I can’t understand why the demon would cling to the castle for so long…”

Gotter scoffed. “No, no, no. It was a science experiment gone awry. Their guardian machines became corrupted, causing the machines to turn on them and the people. That is why the monstrosities attack on sight.”

“But what of the beast which our man Link here slew? Where did it come from if not the Hyrules?” inquired Ember, gesturing to Link who sat beside her.

Gotter stilled, shutting his mouth and chewing on one lip. “You know, I don’t… I don’t know…”

“What kind of rulers do you think they were? What must Hyrule have been _like_ back then?” asked Parcy, leaning back upon the dirt and gazing up at the stars wonderingly. Zelda felt her stomach knot, and turned her face away to hide her growing shame.

“Hard to say,” Ember mused, rubbing his chin and leaning into the fire’s warmth. “I’ve heard tell they were tyrants, I’ve heard tell they were gentle sovereigns of justice; I’ve heard they had a careless daughter who brought about the Kingdom’s destruction—hell, I’ve heard they had five sons _all_ of whom were impotent and unable to carry on the family line…”

Zelda suddenly stood, causing all heads to turn towards her in question. She hadn’t meant to cause a stir, but hearing the tale of her failure passed on through legend stirred a now very old pain within her; and she needed to remove herself from the conversation before that pain became too much.

“I—” she stuttered, cheeks warming, “I—Excuse me, I’ll be back shortly.” Then she turned, and walked into the darkness towards the river’s edge.

As she passed the horse’s stable, their gentle nickering mingling with the flowing water, hurried footsteps sounded behind her, followed by a voice.

“Are you alright, Zelda?”

Link. His words were soft and kindly spoken; but she found it suddenly very hard to summon a smile.

“Yes, I—I just…”

She brought her sandaled feet to the water’s edge, the flickering light of the braziers near the pens casting a golden sparkle over its surface. She wrung her hands. He didn’t need to know of her distress, not after all he had been through. Her failure was her own cross to bear, not his… But she just…

“No,” she said softly.

A chill breeze was blowing in off the water, and she hugged herself, gazing unseeingly out at the river. Link moved to stand beside her, though he did not turn to look at her.

“It is… wonderful, to see the people alive and well—finding joy in this shattered land; but I cannot ignore the fact that this _is_ a shattered land—and that these people have lived for so long in fear.” _All because of me…_

Link stood preternaturally still beside her, and it was a moment before he spoke.

“Zelda—” he began softly, hesitantly, “I won’t deny that these people have known fear—but they’ve also known freedom, and beauty, and joy. Hyrule is different now, but that’s not a bad thing.”

Zelda turned to look at him, surprised by his words. Kind but knowing eyes met her own; eyes that did not yield to her out of a lifetime of subservience to the crown as once they did. It wasn’t just Hyrule that was different now—Link was, too. She had watched his journey, as much as she could—and had seen first-hand how setting off into a strange land with no memories of who he was or the life he’d led had changed him. In some ways… he was yet another part of this land, shattered and broken and carrying on anyway.

She tried not to let the guilt which washed through her at the thought show on her face.

“I… suppose, yes.”

She let out a soft sigh, turning from Link to once more gaze out over the dark water. Her eyes drifted slowly upward, following the rise of the Dueling Peaks—on the other side of which she knew the Academy to once lie. It was naught but ruins, now.

“I… was thinking,” Link began, interrupting her reverie, “Perhaps our next best step would be to travel to Kakariko. I know Impa will be eager to see you, and I thought perhaps you might wish to see her…”

Zelda felt her heart clench at the thought. _“Impa…!”_ she gasped, a hand raising to cover her mouth. She had entirely forgotten! Not all of the old Hyrule was lost—there wast still Impa, and Purah, and Robbie…

Zelda turned to Link, a faint smile lifting her cheeks. “I… I think I would like that, Link. And perhaps Impa can offer guidance on how best to… to proceed from here.”

Link nodded, a smile on his face as well. Zelda once more opened her mouth to express her enthusiasm, but her words quickly transformed into a quivering yawn. Link chuckled.

“Bed?” he queried with a quirk of his head. Zelda momentarily thought to argue—they hadn’t made much of a plan beyond tomorrow; but perhaps he was right. She was exhausted—and he must be too.

“Yes—I suppose we’re both overdue.”

They walked back towards the campfire, side-by-side, around the pile of wooden crates and to the stable doorway. Link showed her to her bed—a larger, more decorative four poster beside his own. He had purchased the luxury bed just for, a thought which brought a shy smile to her face. As she slipped off her sandals and snuggled beneath the achingly soft sheets, she drifted slowly into a deep and (thankfully) dreamless sleep.


	2. As of a Dream

The trip to Kakariko was a quiet one. They rose early and departed as the sun was cresting the horizon, morning dew still sparkling on the tips of grass blades. Though she began the morning with optimism, Link’s hearty omelette breakfast boosting her spirits, the further along the winding dirt road to the Proxim Bridge they traveled, the more she found herself silently overwhelmed by the many changes to Hyrule she bore witness to.

They passed few other travelers, where once there would have been many. The road was rough and pock-marked, where once it had been smooth and well-maintained. Though she had observed much of what Link had seen along his journey—she knew the state Hyrule was in, seeing it in person was indescribably different. In a way, she could chalk up what she saw through Link’s eyes as a surreal dream; but seeing it through her own, it was suddenly all very, inescapably real.

Everywhere she looked were ruins. In the distance, she could see the thick stone walls around the great plateau crumbling. As they approached the bridge, so too did they approach East Post Town—or what was left of it. It had been a thriving settlement along the main road into Necluda one hundred years ago; now, it was nothing more than sprawling piles of weathered stone and rubble. Proxim bridge, though still standing, had also suffered from a century unattended. It’s pillars and braziers had long since toppled into the river, and what stone remained was mossy, chipped, and timeworn.

Her heart ached at the sight. It was with no little effort that Zelda managed to keep her expression free of any wayward distress.

The segment of road which passed beneath the dueling peaks offered brief respite. Only cliff walls and the rushing river met her—both of which had remained largely unchanging in her absence. But as soon as they made it out onto the other side, traveling north towards Kakariko, guilt once more clawed at her heart. The Academy… It’s lofty lecture halls and expansive library—a whole wealth of knowledge and scholarship, destroyed along with the lives which once called such a place of learning home. Little remained: the odd wall or arch or pillar, spanning what was now nothing more than a grassy field to the right of the road. Guardians lay in varying states of decay as well—some still with chunks of stone between their claws, others with old bones beneath their hulls. They had been here when the guardians first swept through. She had not watched nor paid much attention at the time; they were both fleeing for their lives, and it had been raining and dark and filled with smoke. But she could see clearly now the wanton destruction Ganon’s possession of the Guardians had wrought.

Perhaps Link had noticed her discomfort for he soon began to speak in soothing tones, telling her a story about catching and taming his first horse on the Blatchery plain not long after waking in the shrine. “There, along the river on a sunny afternoon…” he had continued with a soft expression upon his face. She attempted to focus, nodding and mustering a wan smile; but the burn of her guilt would not ease.

It was shortly after lunch when they crossed the Kakariko bridge—yet another iconic structure still standing due only to chance and circumstance. By mid-afternoon they passed beneath the wooden gates into the village proper. Despite the day’s difficulty, her heart warmed at the familiar sight. Barring a few new gardens and a plum orchard, Kakariko had not changed—and this fact bolstered her weary spirits in a way she could scarcely name. They left their steeds in the care of a smiling Nanna by the village entrance, and walked the road down to the village square, garnering stares along the way. At the foot of Impa’s imposing home, they stopped.

The two guards stationed on either side of the long stairway offered her wide-eyed, reverent bows, but Zelda was too preoccupied to take much notice. Her heart was beginning to pound and her legs quiver. It had been so long since she had seen Impa! Excitement, nervousness, and a strange sort of fear all warred within her, and she could not tell which was winning. After a reassuring nod from Link, she began a shaky ascent up the aged wooden steps, heart beating harder and faster with each. At the doorway to the ancient house, Zelda took a steadying breath and gently pushed open the double doors.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim. When they did, however, she was met with a surprised _eep_ from a young Sheikah girl scrubbing the floor, and a low chuckle from the rear of the room—from an ancient Sheikah woman sitting atop a floor cushion wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

A woman who could be none other than Impa.

Zelda’s eyes darted about the smiling face which greeted her, red eyes so achingly familiar—but set in a face that couldn’t be more strange. Wrinkles lined every inch of her skin, and her once proud posture was stooped by age. She was old—so very, very old.

Zelda approached slowly, skittishly, Link’s footfalls sounding softly behind her. She felt her heart squeeze. It was all so _confusing_. She was overjoyed that Impa was alive, that she was reunited with her old friend and confidante; but sorrow and regret burned just as strongly. Had she not failed, Impa would still be young and full of life, with a bright future filled with endless possibilities. But because of her—because of her _failures_ —Impa’s bright future had been stolen, relegated to waiting and waiting and waiting in this tiny little village that so long ago could scarcely contain the ambitions of an eager researcher.

“Zelda.”

Her feet slowed to a standstill. Impa’s voice was dry and parched with age; and yet, the familiar cadence of her name felt so overwhelmingly like _home_.

“ _Impa_ —”

The distance between them was closed swiftly, and Zelda soon found herself kneeling before the elderly woman on the cushion, arms tight around her neck as her body trembled with too many emotions whirling too turbulently to be named.

“It is _so good_ to see you, my dear,” Impa whispered, and Zelda felt her eyes prickle with tears.

“And _you_ , Impa.”

-:-:-:-:-:-

Their long-awaited reunion was celebrated with a small feast, all four of them gathered upon the floor of Impa’s home. Link introduced her to Paya, Impa’s granddaughter— _granddaughter!_ —and Link regaled them with the tale of Ganon’s defeat while Zelda ate ravenously, still regaining her strength from the fight and the century in stasis. When the meal was done and pleasantries exhausted, conversation turned to the inevitable question of, “what next”. Since their night at the Riverside stable, Zelda had found herself unconsciously latching onto anything but the past; and so before Impa or Link could speak, she interjected first.

“I wish to focus on immediately retaking the throne. Hyrule has suffered so much, I do not wish to force it to suffer any longer than absolutely necessary.”

Her words were perhaps more forceful than the present company required, eliciting a surprised squeak from Paya. Impa nodded sagely, slowly lifting a slice of baked apple to her lips and chewing thoughtfully before speaking.

“Hyrule can stand a few more months without the monarchy,” she said slowly, turning her piercing gaze on the Princess. “Much has changed in the 100 years you were holding Ganon at bay. Before you can retake your throne, you must first familiarize yourself with what Hyrule has become in your absence. And before you do that—you must rest and recover from your ordeal.”

Zelda felt her heart sink. She had seen enough on the journey here—she was not sure she could stand to see more. But despite her own feelings on the matter, she could not deny the wisdom of Impa’s words.

“Then… how do you suggest I go about doing that?” she inquired delicately, folding her hands neatly in her lap and suppressing the urge to fiddle with her napkin. “My home has been destroyed. Where am I too rest and recover?”

Before Impa could answer, however, Link spoke.

“I have a house—in Hateno Village. You are welcome to stay with me and rest for a while. I have the room. We can make plans to travel the Kingdom while you do.”

Impa smiled, lightly tapping her folded knee. “An excellent proposition!”

After desert and fond goodnights, Link and Zelda adjourned to the Inn. Link fell asleep quickly in the bed opposite her own, but Zelda remained awake for many hours. Impa’s wrinkled face played before her eyes, the sound of her ancient voice whispering in her ears: echoing—haunting; an inescapable reminder of what she had done.

In the morning, they prepared for the journey to Hateno. Link woke early, and she slept late—unsurprising given the late hour sleep had finally claimed her. He kindly did not wake her prematurely, instead leaving her a note on the bedside while he tended to their provisions. A crepe breakfast lay waiting for her, which she ate upon the lanai at the base of the waterfall while she observed the village—and Link bustling about within it.

He moved about with a confidence and comfortability she envied. She watched him briefly play tag with two young girls running through the center of town, then have a lively conversation with a young woman barking outside of a shop. The outfit he brought her later in the morning was of a style she had never seen, but she slipped into it without comment or complaint, reminding herself to be grateful for something to call her own.

Now that she’d had time to take it in, though the village looked largely the same at first glance there were many subtle differences to what she remembered one hundred years ago. All of the buildings were significantly more weathered. Where once there was a book store, now there was a clothing shop. The general goods store had changed ownership—and names, and none of the villagers faces were familiar to her. She felt as though the place were like something from a dream—so close to what she knew, but oddly twisted by a slumbering subconscious.

What must it be like, for him, she wondered—to be able to forget? To immerse himself in this strange new land with none of the threads of the past pulling on him; no guilt, no grief, no pain. He seemed so happy, so at ease in this strange yet familiar village that was and wasn’t the same. She envied him—she pitied him; she felt guilt hang on her like a physical thing.

And she wondered further—if she could choose to forget, would she? Would she abandon the memories of her family—of the champions? Of her childhood among the green grasses of hyrule field? Would she trade this painful longing and heart-wrenching regret for a past that was long dead, to more easily mold herself into a changed present?

“Are you ready go to?”

She started, shaking her head of such heavy thoughts to find Link standing in front of her with a hand extended, their two horses saddled and ready in the center of town. Impa and Paya stood at the bottom stairs, and a few of the villagers had gathered around to say their farewells.

With difficulty, she pushed the feelings away, shifting her focus to the moment at hand. She offered Link her best approximation of a smile, reaching for his outstretched palm and standing from her chair.

“Yes… yes, of course.”

Following him down to the horses, she prepared herself for her goodbyes, and the journey to come.


	3. Hurricane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings for depictions of PTSD, panic attacks, nightmares, and very mild gore.

They once more crossed the Kakariko bridge by early afternoon, veering left at the fork in the road instead of continuing straight they way they’d come. The sun was bright and the sky cloudless, a cool breeze blowing in from the east. A faint weariness tugged at her shoulders from her sleepless night at the inn, encouraging her mind to wander aimlessly amid an ever growing mountain of troubling thoughts. She thought of Impa, of the village, of Link; round and round her thoughts chased themselves. So consumed was she by these ruminations, she hadn’t given much consideration to the route they would take to reach Hateno—hadn’t considered the significant landscape they would cross.

As with their journey into Kakariko, Link kept up his soft, soothing chatter—a story about unexpectedly crossing paths with a fire wizzrobe at the end of a mountain pass, to the northeast of the plains. She half-listened, staring sadly at the ruins of the Academy, its broken stones basking in the afternoon light. It wasn’t until they rode by the fork to said mountain pass, that with a sudden start she realized exactly what route they were taking—there was only one route into Hateno after all, and what they would pass by.

Her heart rate quickened and her shoulders grew stiff with anticipatory dread. With a fearful sort of caution she turned her head from its mindless downward gaze at her horse’s mane out to the grassland, Link’s calm voice disappearing amid the thumping rush of blood in her ears. Here, a hundred years ago, they had fled in the dead of devastation-wracked night. They’d passed through the flaming grasses and scorched and broken trees, pursued by an unending procession of corrupted guardians—the very creatures that were supposed to be their saving grace, instead serving as the merciless hand of their enemy. She could almost hear the heavy thud of their feet on the ashy ground, feel the mechanical skittering of guardians who were far too near… So much _fear_ —terrible, awful, gut-wrenching fear… In her mind’s eye, she saw Link leaning heavily on his sword before her, body broken and on the verge of collapse…

The _guilt_. All the bodies they had passed during their flight, all the lives extinguished in the blink of an eye because of _her_. It was remorseless, the guilt—a living creature tearing through her chest like a vulture into rotting flesh—

“Zelda?”

She struggled to blink widened eyes. The worried voice cut mutedly through the memories like a dull knife. Her head swiveled, vision glazed and unseeing. She felt dizzy and faint, her heart still pounding in her chest like her feet had pounded across the plains.

“Zelda, _please_ , look at me.”

Rapid flutters of her eyelids. Then, a slow turn of her neck on stiff shoulders—a face. Blue eyes beneath a furrowed brow. _Link_ …

He sighed softly, pulling his horse alongside hers and setting a hand gently atop hers, clenched around her reins in a vice grip.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, head bowed and eyes studying hers. With her vision cleared slightly, she took in his worried face, the lines etched in his brow and around his frown. Her eyes prickled with the need to shed tears, but she bit her lip, forcing them to remain behind her lids.

“I—yes, yes, I’ll be okay,” she said weakly, taking a quiet, shuddering breath. “Just—just a little… I’ll be fine.” She offered a smile even she knew scarcely passed as such. Link looked unconvinced.

“If you need to stop, we can—”

“ _No_ ,” she said forcefully; then, more gently: “No. I’m alright, we can keep going. I’d rather get there sooner than later.”

Link eyed her closely a moment; then nodded slowly, skeptically. “Okay. If you do need to stop… just say the word.”

She nodded, forcing another smile. “I will.”

She didn’t wait for Link to lead on. With a flick of her trembling wrists she spurred her horse forward without looking back, leaving Link staring after her with a furrowed brow.

The rest of the journey through the Blatchery Plains was, outwardly, uneventful. Zelda kept her eyes, quite literally, fixed on the road ahead of her. Rarely did she allow them to veer from the winding patch of dirt, lest she be seized by memories. She did not speak, merely listened to Link’s recount more stories from his travels. She did not hear his words, exactly, only his voice—gentle and calming and reassuring. It kept her thoughts from forming into anything coherent—anything that could draw her back into that shadowy well of grief and regret and guilt.

By late afternoon Fort Hateno loomed before them, and Zelda felt palpable relief to put the plains behind them. The effect was, however, somewhat diminished when she finally looked up from the road and took in the state of the gate. She knew from watching Link on his journey that the fort was in bad shape; but like with everything else, it was different seeing it with her own eyes. Defunct guardians littered the base of the wall in varying postures and states of disrepair. Large sections of stone had been blasted away by guardian lasers, and other, smaller sections lay in heaps upon the ground—crumbled from age and decay. The damaged segments had been repaired by little more than sharpened sticks wedged into the seams of the stones, themselves now aged and weather worn. A once proud structure, deteriorated beyond recognition—just like everything else.

She clenched her fists to keep her distress from overwhelming her, fingernails digging crescents into her palm with the effort.

“I know there’s still a few hours of sunlight left,” Link’s voice cut through her upset, and he turned on his horse to face her, “But the best place to stop for the night is right up ahead. Professor Calip told me to feel free to use his research cabin any time, and since he finally went home to his wife and kids for a while we can spend the night there.”

He had a humorous smile on his face, and Zelda nodded stiffly, forcing a smile in return.

The cabin was just beyond Fort Hateno’s gate, nestled in a grove of trees alongside the river. A simple covered awning served as a place to stable their horses, and as Link began dinner in the cook pot, Zelda removed their supplies from the saddlebags. It was an old and comfortable routine, one they had engaged in many times a century prior as they’d traveled Hyrule trying to awaken her powers. By all accounts it should have given her comfort. Back then she had lived and breathed these moments—the only such instances of casual comfort she had. Now, it felt as looking through a shop front window on a cold winters day at the warmest, most downy coat; unreachable—a beautiful idea that offered no comfort. Despite her efforts to keep her mind elsewhere, the memories and emotions stirred by their passage through the Blatchery Plains remained with her; they had merely been buried for the sake of keeping her head in front of Link. But now, as she watched him smile as he stirred what looked to be curry—one of her favorites, she felt only the untenable stirring of those emotions, like hornets disturbed from their nest.

Did he remember that curry was her favorite? Did he recall all those lighter days traveling across the kingdom together, where he would cook and she would set up camp? Or was he merely acting on a habit and an instinct one hundred years old he had no conscious understanding of?

She had robbed him. She had wronged him. She had almost— _almost_ …

The memory of his dirt-caked, blood-stained figure lying heavily in her arms—head lolling brokenly against her shoulder… It surged in her mind like a tidal wave, fierce and demanding, threatening to pull her beneath the water. She felt her throat tighten and her eyes prickle with moisture. Her body shuddered, chest tight with pain and tension and fear and grief and _guilt_ —

She turned from the sight of him, leaning heavily against her horse as she forced a ragged breath, swallowing past the tight lump in her throat.

The rough scrape of a ladle against cast iron faintly pierced her mounting distress and she latched onto it like a life line, pulling herself from the water’s edge. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, digging her fingers into the rough canvas of her sleeping roll as she listened attentively to the sounds of Link ladling their bowls.

“Dinner’s ready!” he called jovially from across the grove, and Zelda let out a breath, slow and steadier than before, forcing her thoughts roughly, if weakly, away.

“Coming!” she returned, tucking her sleeping roll beneath her arm and grabbing Link’s from off the ground before heading for the cook pot.

Dinner was a hearty, if silent, affair. She had managed to quell the storm brewing within her, but it was only through silence she was able to maintain it. Link spoke intermittently between mouth fulls, too consumed with devouring his three helpings to carry much conversation. She was grateful for this, though it did not escape her attention that, while ordinarily watching him ‘feast’ would have brought about laughter at the least—if not an outright teasing comment, she could scarcely muster the thinnest of smiles. This fact didn’t seem to escape Link, either.

Halfway through his third helping he put his bowl down, eying her as he swallowed down his bite. He spoke slowly, cautiously, voice gentle as though he were calming a skittish horse.

“Has the journey been alright so far?” he inquired, eying her closely. “We’re not going too fast, or too slow, or…?”

He left the question hanging and she turned her eyes up to his, slowly spinning her empty bowl in her lap.

“No—it’s been quite ideal. We’re making good time, but I don’t feel rushed.” She tried to offer a smile, but couldn’t be sure quite how it looked on her face. Not well, she imagined, since Link frowned.

“Zelda…” he sighed, rubbing his hands together in a rare show of agitation, “Something is bothering you. Please tell me,” he pleaded gently.

Zelda blinked in surprise. Link had never been one to be so direct. It was yet another reminder of the time that had passed—the irreversible changes and the damage done. To Hyrule—to Link… She felt that storm within her swirl threateningly. Biting her lip, she looked away.

She didn’t know what to tell him. Despite how she had been feeling the past few days, she was happy to be with him again, and happy to be traveling together once more. She was even looking forward to seeing his home, in some distant part of her mind. But these feelings… she didn’t know what to do with them. How to handle them—how to share them. She didn’t even feel as though she had a right to them. For all her anguish, it was self-imposed; _she_ had caused her own suffering. But Link?

He’d had no choice in the matter. Yet… he had been prepared to die for _her_ mistakes. What gave her the right to be upset—by _any_ of this?

But even still... She couldn’t hide it forever. And she would explode if she didn’t let at least some of it out.

“I—” she began, then hesitated, turning from his piercing stare to gaze down at her hands. “I… it has been strange, and a little unsettling, to see how Hyrule has fallen with my own eyes.”

The statement was true enough, she only hoped Link didn’t press.

“Is that all?”

She glanced up at him, surprised once again by his question. A hundred years ago he would never have been so bold, nor so perceptive. Yet more changes wrought by his slumber. She stared a moment, contemplating, before offering some approximation of a wry smile. “More or less, I suppose.”

He eyed her a moment longer before standing, making his way around the fire to sit beside her. He reached out a hand, stilling hers against her bowl, ending its ceaseless spinning. She looked up to meet his eyes, ice blue with dancing amber reflections of the fire’s flames.

“It hasn’t _fallen_ , Zelda,” he said softly, gazing meaningfully at her, “It has only changed.”

She let out a shaky breath, his words hitting some reluctant resonant note within her. She turned her gaze to the fire. For several moments she was silent, and Link did not speak further. He kept his hand on hers, though, and after a moment, she whispered quietly, “I will try to see it that way.”

Link did not reply, but she couldn’t help but feel he didn’t seem convinced. Even the crackle-pop of the embers sounded skeptical.

-:-:-:-

As with her night in Kakariko, sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned on the cabin’s small bed for some hours after Link had drifted off, tucked away in his sleeping roll on the floor beside her. Images of the Blatchery plain, of Impa’s wrinkled face, of crumbled cities and broken bridges danced across her mind like fireflies, winking in and out of existence. But her anguish, however fearsome, could only stave off exhaustion for so long. As the moon reached its peak in the night sky, sleep finally claimed her—as did nightmares.

_The night was dark and moonless. The field burned around them, tall grasses fueling the wildfire’s insatiable hunger. Glowing embers danced and glittered in the darkness like scarlet stars. Thick, sulfurous smoke threatened to choke her. Link’s hand was tight around her own as they wove between fallen trees and disfigured corpses, dirt and mud and blood smearing her arms and legs—staining her dress. They kept running, past more trees, past more bodies. A familiar Sheikah woman lay unmoving on the ground as they tore past—young then old, her kindly expression contorted in a grimace of pain. Impa…_

_Her legs faltered, but Link forced her onward, dragging her in the wake of his momentum. Her lungs were burning. She couldn’t breathe—couldn’t breathe…_

_She closed her eyes against the stinging smoke, tears streaming down her cheeks catching ash in their wake. When she opened them again, Link’s hand had disappeared from hers. He stood before her, blood soaking his tunic in multiple places. He leaned heavily on his sword as a guardian approached, head swiveling, eye glowing. She ran to him, hands on his shoulders, panicked and trembling. She wanted to beg him to run, to save himself—Goddess, if she lost him… She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The guardian came closer. She tried to shout, but barely a squeak formed. And then it was upon them, and she stepped forward, hand extended—she would stop it, she would save him—but nothing happened. Instead its eye reached full charge and she was struck in the chest, felt the beam pierce her flesh and come out the other side, searing every inch of her it touched, without and within._

_She fell with a scream, the pain burning and aching and unbearable in its intensity. She was weak, trembling, her vision growing dark. Link lay upon the ground near her and with the last of her strength she crawled towards him._

_“Link,” she croaked, voice near inaudible in the chaos of the field. “Link—”_

_She finally reached him, arms trembling as she groped weakly for his face. He turned to her, a wound in his side bleeding freely as he stared in confusion._

_“Who is Link?” he asked, voice a whisper. Then he blinked, staring at her more closely as though seeing her for the first time. “Who are you?”_

_Her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage—no, NO… Then she was falling—falling, falling, into a black abyss, screaming, desperately reaching for Link as he grew distant above her, the darkness swallowing him whole. She blinked furious tears away. Then—_

_Malice. All around her; surrounding her. She was encased in a shell of malice, hands clasped in desperate prayer, hope and faith and love the only things keeping it at bay. She gazed out through the eyes of another, whose vision took in a broken Hyrule—a dead Hyrule; fragments of fragments of a glorious past. He asked others if they knew of a Zelda—inquired with casual disinterest as he rode through fields which once were home to bustling life, now devoid of anything—everything. He did not know her—he whom she loved with all her being._

_Her heart broke; her hope dimmed. The malice closed in. It touched her—burned her, seared through her skin and dissolved her bone. It was agony; pain and grief, regret and guilt—so much **pain** …_

“ _Zelda_! ZELDA!”

The visions swirled in her brain like a thick fog, warring for dominance in her mind against her own sight. Distantly she heard screaming, but did not know where it came from. A dark ceiling slanted above her. Damp sheets clung to her skin. Hands pushed gently but firmly against her shoulders. Her breathing came in gasping wheezes. Her cheeks were wet, eyes shedding tears like autumn leaves. She flailed desperately, heart thudding in her chest. Sobs, harsh and desperate and unrelenting, tore from her throat.

“Zelda—It’s me, it’s Link,” said the voice, soothing but firm and assured. Thumbs rubbed gentle circles against her shoulders. 

“It’s just a dream… You’re okay, everything is okay—you’re safe. It was just a dream…”

Awareness slowly returned with the gentle cadence of his voice. The cabin—the trip to Hateno… _Just a dream…_

Without full thought given to her actions she rolled onto her side, head searching for his lap on the bed beside her. Her hand groped desperately for his as she curled against him, legs against her chest, body trembling.

The hurricane inside her had finally broken free. Sobs wracked her small frame, shaking violently with her grief. Link said nothing, merely held her close, a hand rubbing slow, calming circles against her back. She didn’t know how long she remained like that, but when her sobs finally receded into tearful stillness her eyes ached and her lungs hurt. His hand moved to her hair and gently stroked the long, tangled strands, fingertips rubbing soothingly against her scalp.

After silence had reigned for some minutes, his quiet voice broke the stillness.

“Tell me,” he pleaded gently.

She let out a shuddering breath. Then, without allowing herself time to consider the action, she did.

“I can’t… I can’t _live_ with myself,” she admitted hoarsely, gripping his hand tighter. “Everything is gone—everything is… is _broken_. Impa’s whole _life_ —wasted, on me. Your life—your memories, your family… it’s _gone_.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she knew he heard her by the gentle squeeze to her hand. She burrowed deeper into him, not allowing herself to consider the implications of this closeness—seeking only his comfort.

“It’s my fault. I did _all_ of this. So many lives, so much d-d—” she stopped, voice choked, and shut her eyes tightly. Tears leaked from between the lids, and she trembled.

“The guilt is _unbearable_ ,” she whispered. “I—I cannot live with what I have done.”

Silence fell between them again, and she nuzzled her cheek against his shin, sniffling quietly. He stroked her hair gently, and after a moment, he spoke.

“Is this what you’ve been holding in?”

She couldn’t bring herself to speak, and so nodded against his leg instead. She felt more than heard as his posture gentled.

“Zelda,” he whispered, quiet voice so full of tenderness she nearly sobbed at the way it made her heart arche. “What you have done is save your Kingdom,” he admonished gently. “You are not responsible for what happened 100 years ago. Don’t mistake being in a position to act with being the source of the problem.”

“But—”

“It was not you who allowed the old records to be destroyed,” he interrupted gently. “It was not you who let the old legends die out. And it wasn’t your fault nor anyone else’s that your mother passed before she could teach you. You inherited an impossible problem and did everything within your power to solve it. You could have done no more than that.”

Despite herself a sob escaped and she curled more tightly around her legs.

“You’re wrong,” she insisted hoarsely, “I should have done better—I should have _listened_ to my _father_ —”

“Your father regrets what he did to force your path.”

She stopped. His words had taken her completely off guard. She tensed, heart quickening, and held tighter to his hand.

“W-what?”

Link let out a quiet, weary sigh, resuming his gentle circles against her back.

“I met his spirit,” he admitted cautiously, “when I left the shrine of resurrection. I didn’t know it was him, at first. He waited all that time so he could guide me—so he could beg me to save you—to fix his mistakes. And later, I found his diary in a hidden study in the library. He wrote that—” Link hesitated, then pulled her a little closer. “He wrote that he regretted putting so much pressure on you. He began to think that it distracted you from finding your own way, and that maybe your own way was the only way to unlock your power. After Mount Lanayru… he was going to end your training.”

His hand shifted to her cheek just as she turned to look up at him, eyes wide and tears falling anew.

“Truly?” she whispered, voice weak and barely audible. He smiled gently, eyes softening, thumb gently brushing away an errant tear.

“Truly.”

She bit her lip but the tears fell anyway, and she closed her eyes against the ache in her heart. Link remained silent as the emotions washed over her, taking with it her tears and the long-buried pain of failing the man who was her only family. For the first time since they had defeated Ganon, she felt a weight lift from her chest.

But it was only one of many.

Once her tears ebbed, she nuzzled against him and let out a weary breath.

“I admit it does ease me to know he felt that way,” she confided quietly. “But it does little to ease the pain of seeing Hyrule in such a state. I may not have failed my father as I’d always thought, but I have still failed my people.”

Link let out a sigh, this one containing a hint of exasperation.

“Zelda.” he reached for her chin to turn her gaze gently upwards. _“You have not failed Hyrule._ I understand it was your destiny to seal Ganon—just as it was mine to defeat him. That _is_ a role of great power; but who are you to decide _how_ fate is to unravel? If there is nothing I’ve learned, I’ve learned this: time, and fate—they do not bend to the will of mortals, nor of Goddesses and especially not _Princesses_.”

He offered her a smile then, eyes soft and tender and infinitely sweet. Amusement danced faintly about his lips. Zelda bit her cheek, torn between arguing and crying.

“Life goes on in Hyrule,” he said quietly. “Families live and grow and so does the land. The Hyrule you see as broken is the Hyrule these people call home. Just because you know what the past looked like, doesn’t mean it must dictate the future. Look at what is _now_ ,” he emphasized. “Don’t let the past blind you to the present.”

Link’s hand left her chin to brush a strand of hair from her face. His eyes sparkled in the faint moonlight seeping through the window, and despite the dimness of the room, Zelda felt all together too visible. Somewhat reluctantly she turned her gaze away, staring toward the wall instead.

Silence lapsed between them once more, and Link resumed the gentle strokes to her hair. She felt conflicted. She understood his sentiment, but struggled to believe in it. The guilt—the regret, it was all still too fresh; her memories of Hyrule in its prime still too stark in her mind. She struggled to see how this land full of rubble and decay could be anything but broken. And Link, for all his unexpected perceptiveness and newly blunt manner of speaking, did not hesitate to comment on it.

“Just think about what I’ve said… alright?” he said gently, “And tomorrow… I’d like to show you something, before we head into Hateno.”

She nodded weakly against his leg. She doubted she would be able to do much else besides think about what he had said. “Alright,” she said softly. “And… and Link?”

“Hm?”

She felt her cheeks warm briefly, but used the courage the darkness gave her to continue. “Would you… would you stay with me? Just for tonight?”

His hand stilled against her head mid-stroke, only for a moment, before resuming its gentle rhythms. When he replied, his voice was a tender whisper. “Of course.”

Link shifted so his back was to the wall and Zelda followed, head finding a more comfortable position across his folded legs with the aid of the pillow. Despite the boniness of his knee, she had never had never felt more comfortable, lying as she was on her side, legs curled tightly against her chest. Between the gentle stroking of her hair and his radiant warmth, sleep soon found her again. But this time, no monsters or memories plagued her unconscious. There was only the soothing emptiness of a mind released of its burdens, cradling her weary heart in its hands.


	4. And The Sun Will Shine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... wow, been a while, huh? I'm sorry I've been so out of sorts; you should seriously see the insanity that is my sleep schedule right now, dear God. Admittedly, with a global pandemic afoot, the rise of fascism and the balkanization of a world superpower, mass unemployment and near-catastrophic economic collapse, I feel like I KINDA get a pass (all of us really)... but nonetheless, I want to thank you guys for your patience! I hope you've all been doing well! (or as well as possible under the current circumstances anyway).
> 
> I didn't realize I had two chapters left on this story--I thought I only had the epilogue left. So here's chapter 4 and I'll get to the final edits on the epilogue so I can publish that soon! I've also got some other exciting (multi-chapter!) things in the works for you guys, which I'll hopefully get to publishing by no later than mid-August. It's almost done, just gotta do my final thorough review!

The morning was slow and wearisome. Though she no longer felt the unbearable pressure of her guilt expanding against the constraints of her heart, neither did its release fill her with joyful energy. She ate Link’s breakfast slowly, offering her appreciation despite a lack of appetite. He seemed to keep one eye on her at all times, inquiring after her whenever she fell silent for too long. She always provided the same answer—honest, if bland: “Alright.” He seemed satisfied enough by it, and would take her hand in his and give it a reassuring squeeze. In some small way, it helped.

They set off long after sunrise, taking the winding road east into Necluda. The sun shone warmly and a mild breeze rustled her bound hair. As before, Link kept up a steady stream of anecdotes about the areas they passed; rumors and legends he’d learned from the locals, stories of defeating bokoblin camps and wizzrobes as he journeyed. She listened more than she had the day before, finding a reluctant smile pulling at her lips whenever a particularly comedic tale was shared, of which there seemed an unusual abundance.

Given their late start they did not stop for lunch, instead eating a light meal in their saddles. Link plucked a pair of rosy apples from a tree on the side of the road, and Zelda pulled some Gerudo flatbread from their saddle bags . Perhaps it was her imagination, or perhaps it was simply the freshness of the fruit, but the apple tasted more flavorful than the one she’d had on the road the day before. She ate it down to the core, and Link—one eye still ever watchful, handed her the remaining half of his own with a silent smile.

The afternoon passed quick and uneventful, and soon she saw the familiar windmills of Hateno rising in the distance. But instead of continuing along the road, as they passed by a small wood at the foot of the hill Link turned into the trees, beckoning her to follow. She didn’t question him, assuming this to be the detour towards whatever he wished to show her; and Link didn’t explain further. He led a winding path through the well manicured oaks, the air cool in the shade of the leaves and boughs and the soil soft and smelling of earthy must. The wood was small—set in a valley below the village, and soon she could see a grassy rise in the earth beyond the tree line signaling the woods end. It was here Link came to a stop, gesturing for her to pull up along side him.

“Hold on a moment.”

He dug into his saddle bags and she watched him curiously, brow furrowing when he pulled out a handkerchief. An awkward smile rose to his lips as he rubbed the back of his head, murmuring, “I… I want it to be a surprise.”

She couldn’t help a small smile—it was so rare she got to see Link shy, and nodded mutely as she pulled Flint closer. He folded the handkerchief into a suitable blindfold, tying it gently about her head until her vision was fully obscured.

“Hand me your reins,” he murmured, and blindly she extended them towards him, gripping onto the saddle horn as she felt Flint begin to move.

“I admit I’m quite curious where you’re taking me, now,” she commented, resisting the urge to scratch beneath the fabric.

He didn’t respond immediately, but after a moment said simply, “You’ll see.”

She felt the warmth of sun on her skin replace the coolness of shade, the smell of earth giving way to humid air and the distant sound of splashing water carrying on the wind. It was only a few minutes more before she felt her horse come to a stop, and Link’s hand settle gently on her forearm as he murmured into her ear.

“You can take it off, now.”

She repressed a shiver at the feel of his warm breath against her skin, reaching up to remove the fabric. She blinked once, twice, adjusting to the sunlight before taking in the sight before her. A gasp tore from her throat.

_Silent Princesses._

Hundreds—no, _thousands_ of the rare, precious flower bloomed freely across a grassy field leading up to the shores of a small lake pooling at the base of a waterfall. It cascaded freely over a sheer cliff face, the misting water sparkling in the dying sunlight and casting a rainbow over the lake.

In all her searching and travel one hundred years ago she had never seen more than a handful of the delicate flower out in the wild—always alone. But here, now, they grew in abundance, thriving in multitudes. She felt her lip quiver as she jumped off her horse, her legs wobbly as she stumbled to a nearby boulder. She leaned heavily against it as she stared out at the scene, only dimly aware of Link joining her.

“There are so _many_ ,” she breathed, a hand hovering tremulously over her heart. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Link smiling.

“One hundred years ago they were going extinct. And now, the Silent Princess grows wild and freely throughout Hyrule.”

He turned to her then, gently taking her limp hand in his own and drawing her gaze away from the stunning sight. He eyed her gently as he spoke, thumb softly stroking the back of her hand.

“A hundred years ago there were things that flourished and things that didn’t. Just as now—” he said, gesturing to the field, “—there are things that flourish and things that do not. Hyrule hasn’t fallen, it has only changed; and if you’re willing to open your mind to the possibility that all is not lost, you’ll find this Hyrule full of wonderful things, too.”

Her lip quivered as she held his gaze, so full of gentleness and sincerity it made her heart clench. She felt the wet trickle down her cheeks before she was aware of crying, and turned her gaze back out to the field—to the sight a hundred years ago she never dared hope she might one day see.

“Could… could we stay for a while?” she whispered, her hand tightening around his. He nodded, smiling, and she settled onto the grass beside the boulder. Link lowered himself beside her, never letting go of her hand.

-:-:-:-:-

It was dark by the time they traveled back through the woods to the worn, dirt road. For the first time since laying eyes on Link after the battle with Ganon she felt a warm, heartfelt smile pulling her lips stubbornly upward. Her heart, this morning still heavy despite releasing its burdens, now felt a little lighter—a little warmer; hopeful. They traveled through the woods in peaceful silence, and so involved in her own thoughts was she that it wasn’t until they reached the road that Zelda noticed the subtle furrow to Link’s brow and the twist to his lips. Now it was she who found herself keeping one eye on him as they traveled up the hill to the village, finding his disquiet growing the closer they got to the village entrance.

The small town square was deserted by the time they passed beneath the gate, Link silently leading her to the right—up another hill, past a series of strange boxy houses, and towards a wooden bridge. She smiled as she eyed the familiar adobe home on the other side. It had been his family home a hundred years ago, and though it looked a little worse for wear it hadn’t changed a bit. They de-saddled their horses in the small stable beside the house, and Zelda’s concern grew as Link’s movements became more hesitant with each piece of equipment he removed from Epona’s back.

The lightness she felt seeing the field of silent princesses was slowly being replaced with trepidation, and as Link hung the last piece of equipment on its hook she reached gently for his hand, stilling him.

“Link… I feel it is my turn to ask if something is wrong. You’ve been bothered ever since we left the field,” she said cautiously. He hadn’t changed his mind about having her stay, had he? After everything, she wasn’t sure she was ready to be on her own just yet, and especially, not ready to be away from _him_.

Link eyed her nervously, running a hand through his hair as he pulled her away from the horses, pausing beside the small pond shaded by an apple tree.

“I—there’s… I should— _there’s something I have to tell you_ ,” he said in a rush, holding tightly to her hand. Zelda’s heart skipped a nervous beat but she forced herself steady. Whatever it was, she would manage. He had been there for her, she would be there for him—whatever this was about.

“Of course,” she said gently, squeezing his hand. He smiled at her wanly, cheeks shading a light pink.

“I just… I thought since you’ll be living with me for a while, I feel you should know—that is to say, it would only be honorable if I—if you…”

She cocked her head in confusion. “If you…?”

He closed his eyes, taking an anxious breath before staring hard at their joined hands.

“I… I have… _feelings_ , for you. Since you’ll be living with me for a while, I don’t think it would be fair or honorable of me to keep that from you.” He turned up his anxious gaze to meet hers and she felt her heart skip a beat for a very different reason. “Nothing has to change, though—” he hurriedly added, “I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I value our friendship above all else, and I—”

Zelda’s unexpected giggle cut him off short. Link blushed profusely, and she held his hand closer, her her heart thrumming warmly in her chest.

“Link,” she said softly, a laugh still in her voice and a blush rising to match his own, “I would have thought it was all very clear to you by now, memories or no.”

He shook his head, looking thoroughly confused but no longer quite so nervous.

It was her turn for nerves, instead. She took a fortifying breath. “Love,” she said quietly, gathering her courage to look him in the eyes, “is what awoke my power. My love for you.”

Link stared at her, blinking hard. Silence reigned between them for several moments. Then, in a hoarse voice he responded.

“Oh.”

Despite herself, she laughed through her blush. “‘ _Oh_?’ _That’s_ what you have to say?”

A hand rose to rub nervously at the back of his head and his cheeks turned a shade darker. “Can… can I kiss you?

She stared at him a moment, caught off guard by the bold request but no less pleased for it. She bit her lip, feeling as though her face must be positively glowing. “I—yes, I suppose—”

Before she could finish her sentence he leaned in, joining his lips with her. Her eyes widened, not expecting it quite so suddenly; but they quickly fluttered closed as the delightful warmth of his kiss washed away her self-consciousness. She melted against the gentle movement of his lips, her worries fading away like shadows before a flame.

A hundred years ago she had longed for a closeness with Link she knew would never be possible. Perhaps that was why it had taken so much for her to finally realize love was the emotion growing stubbornly in her heart. For now, so far removed from the world she once knew, that closeness was simply hers for the taking—no politics to navigate, no expectations to hold her back. Yes, this Hyrule was much changed. But maybe… maybe Link was right; maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him closer, her smile bright and warm against his lips; and perhaps it was just her imagination, but she rather thought he was smiling too.


	5. Epilogue

She hefted her journal in hand, pocketing a quill and ink pot before heading out the front door. The sun was warm and shining in a clear azure sky as she headed around the house to the pond and apple tree, seeking refuge beneath its leafy branches. Summer was around the corner, and she could feel its approach in the stillness of the air and the creep of humidity. She settled herself comfortably against the trunk, setting her ink pot on a flat patch of earth beside her.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, calming her mind and allowing her thoughts no further than the gentle ripple of water from the koi she and Link had caught for the pond. Slowly, her body eased and the tension uncoiled itself from around her chest. She released a slow breath and opened her eyes, turning her attention to the journal in her lap.

It had been a gift from one of the women in the village a few weeks after settling into Hateno. When word spread that a strange woman had moved into Link’s house after he returned from a long absence, the villagers assumed he’d eloped on his travels and brought the girl home. Link never corrected them, and Zelda—feeling a strange but welcome flutter whenever someone referred to her as “Link’s wife”, never saw fit to either. She had been doing some washing in town and dozed off at the sink when she was prodded awake by Clavia who fussed in a matronly sort of way about her welfare; it was then, in a quiet voice, that she confided in the woman about her sleeping troubles. She’d been having more nightmares of the times before—of aching uncertainties and paralyzing fears and losses she felt she would never quite recover from (but she kept that part to herself).

“Too many thoughts in that bright little head of yours,” she announced resolutely. “My little Karin is just the same—always thinking, wondering, and worrying about this or that. Here—”

She reached into her market bag and pulled out a crude leather bound journal, handing it to Zelda as she dried her hands upon her apron.

“It was going to be for Karin, but I can always get another from Pruce. You have it. Write down whatever’s bothering you. Karin always likes to write out her thoughts in poetry, but you can do whatever suits you best.”

That night, with nothing else for it, Zelda gave it a try. She still avoided looking back on her first dozen pages of awkward limericks and crude couplets, their poor lyrical construction never failing to cause her embarrassment. But as she grew used to the habit and began to explore this unfamiliar form of writing, the words came easier—the rhythms smoother and more fluid. And, over time, she found that it did help. A lot. Thoughts and feelings she just couldn’t rationalize found a voice more easily in words of sentiment and emotion instead of logic and form. After a time, she even braved sharing a few with Link. He praised both the effort and the end result (and though it secretly pleased her, she rather thought him a bit too biased to be wholly objective).

Thus, the ritual formed. Whenever Link gently shook her free of a nightmare, or whenever heavy thoughts plagued her throughout the day, she turned to poetry. Today had proved to be one of those heavy times; she felt plagued by an inner turmoil she knew not the origins of as she dragged herself about her morning routine. Thus, instead of accompanying Link to the farmers market in the square as they had originally planned for the afternoon, she remained behind to write.

She pulled the cork from the ink pot, setting it beside the jar and opening her journal to somewhere in the middle. She skimmed the pages absently, smiling at some of her better poems and cringing at some of her worst. But when she reached the page with her bookmark, she stilled, head cocked in curiosity. Instead of a blank page as she expected, she found it filled with a short poem written not in her looping cursive, but in a familiar, blocky font.

> The world was new when I awoke  
>  I knew not my name, or any folk  
>  But I knew your voice without a doubt  
>  It gave me hope, made my heart stout
> 
> I traveled far in search of you  
>  The memories you left were few  
>  But in the end I only needed one  
>  To know your smile was my sun.

She stared at it for several silent moments, her cheeks slowly widening with a girlish grin and the tightness about her heart loosening. A hand rose to the page, fingertips gently tracing the words. _Oh, Link…_

“Hey, Zelda?”

She jerked her head up at the sudden shout, spotting Link carefully crossing the bridge with two overfull baskets, his vision partially obscured by the burden.

“Could I, uh… could I get your help?” he called uncertainly, shifting one arm as an apple threatened to fall from its precarious perch atop a pile of greenery. Her eyes crinkled with endearment, closing the journal and setting it beneath the tree.

“Coming!”

She hurried over, quickly relieving him of one basket, then the other, setting each down upon the bridge. He stared at her quizzically.

“I was actually hoping you might help me carry them into the—”

She reached for his cheeks, pulling him closer and kissing him soundly before he could finish his objection. The groceries could wait a little while longer—she had some newly-found cheer she rather wanted to indulge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus we reach the end! Whew, sorry that took so long to get published; hope you all enjoyed. Thoughts and comments always appreciated!


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